Midwest Weather
by Cumberbatch Critter
Summary: In which Castiel becomes indubitably re-acquainted with winter and its never-ending need to be, well... cold. [Platonic Destiel, complete with cheeseburgers and hot chocolate. Winter!fic!]


**Midwest Weather**

Castiel heard the car door even before he heard the key in the door of their motel room, but he didn't bother to meet Dean at the door. He had just gone out for food, anyway, some brown-bag take-out, and while it was enticing, he would have rather had a coffee or, better yet, hot chocolate.

"Cold, Cas?"

Castiel shifted beneath the blankets that he had piled on top of himself. He nudged them away from his face with his chin, squinting out at Dean. "Yes."

Dean laughed, piling his treasure trove of fast food onto the table. "Many more blankets there and you might actually become part of the bed. That could potentially be awkward."

"It's convenient," Castiel replied bluntly. And it was, because they were in Michigan, there was a foot of snow on the ground, and the sub-zero temperatures was making this hunt especially unpleasant. With Sam out chasing leads due to a lost game of rock-paper-scissors and Dean having gone out for a snack run, Castiel had been alone, watching a blank TV and fighting boredom, and more than a little bit freezing.

The blankets rumpled up on the bed had seemed oddly inviting and, until the brothers came back, Castiel had nothing to do, and so, he'd gone back to bed at seven-thirty in the evening. Not that he planned on sleeping, but... well, burrowing beneath the blankets and pulling them up even over his ears, only leaving enough space so that he could get air so he didn't suffocate... He was dozing by the time that Dean got back, and he'd only come back to total consciousness when he'd heard the car door.

"Welcome to Michigan," Dean said, throwing his coat onto the chair. "I've got cheeseburgers and chicken sandwiches with hot sauce."

Castiel shifted again, nudging the blankets away further. They fell away from his ear with a blast of cold air to his exposed skin. "Hot sauce."

"It'll set your mouth on fire, dude.

Castiel frowned, untangling his hands from the blankets to rub at his eyes. "Uh huh."

Dean rolled his eyes, pulling sandwiches out of the bag. "A _little_ more gusto, Cas. Any word from Sam?"

Castiel shook his head. "No." He stretched and pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Oh well. Heads up."

Castiel barely got his hands up in time to catch the cheeseburger that Dean had tossed to him.

"Ketchup? Honey mustard? Horseradish?"

"No, thanks."

"To each his own." Dean held up his hands in a mock-surrender sort of way. "Oh, here, maybe shouldn't throw this one." He grabbed one of the paper cups he had brought in, handing it off to Castiel. "Hot chocolate."

Castiel perked up infinitesimally, curling his fingers around the paper cup and relishing in the warmth. His reaction must have been more noticable than he had thought, though, because Dean laughed at him seconds later.

"C'mon, Cas. I never forget the hot chocolate when there's snow outside," he said, thumping him on the shoulder before turning away. "It's the only good thing _about_ winter," he muttered, grabbing himself a sandwich and dropping into a chair.

Castiel hummed in a noncommental way, tapping his fingers against the paper cup before taking a drink. Warmth exploded in his mouth and travelled down his throat as he swallowed, wielding a warm path straight down into his chest. He resisted the human reaction to sigh.

He had never noticed the weather when he'd been here as an angel. He knew some things, remembered some things from his vessel, things that he picked up from watching others, but he had miscalculated the power of the cold weather that came with winter. He found himself overly sensitive to certain elements now, and the first time that he'd been out in the snow, his fingernails had gone blue before Dean had called him an dumbass for not dressing correctly, gave him a pair of gloves, and shoved him into the car.

Like he was supposed to know it was _that cold_.

Well, now he did, and now he knew about things like a good scarf and hot chocolate, and the blankets that he presently pulled closer, trying to get them around his shoulders again.

"Dude's gonna turn into a Samsicle if he stays out much longer. I hate him driving my car when there's all this ice out," Dean muttered, mouth full, as he looked out the window. "Why don't we ever get hits in Hawaii or anything?"

Castiel set his hot chocolate aside, peeling back the paper on his cheeseburger. "Is it warmer there?"

"Hot weather and hot babes," Dean replied seriously, although not without a grin. "_Aloha-oe_, Michigan."

Castiel felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion, but before he had the chance to ask for a literal translation, the motel door open and a snow-speckled Sam bustled in.

"We are _never_ coming back to Michigan in January _ever_ again," he gasped, stomping snow from his shoes and rubbing his hands together. "I don't even think this case is worth it."

"What?" Dean looked around. "Why not?"

"Well, for starter's-" Sam snatched the hot chocolate from the table, popping the plastic lid off to take a drink.

"Hey!"

Sam looked down at him. "What?"

"That's my hot chocolate!"

Dean withered slightly under Sam's glare. "It's payback for sticking me out in the cold," Sam said flatly. "Jerk."

"Don't call me a jerk," Dean retorted.

"Well, don't be a jerk, you jerk."

Dean snapped his fingers, pointing up at Sam. "Wow. The cold turns you into a _major_ bitch."

Sam grinned and shoved Dean's shoulder, falling into the seat next to him.

Dean grinned back and reached for the six-pack on the nearby table. "So, tell me about this job, what'd you find out?"

Castiel took another bite of his cheeseburger, watching the Winchester exchange intently. Their brotherhood never failed to interest him, no matter if they were joking with each other or having a full-on argument. Everything they did was fascinating, especially to an outsider like Castiel.

Dean sighed heavily. "What do you say we pack up and get the hell out of here? Cas?"

Castiel startled out of his thoughts. "Sorry. What?"

"Hawaii?" Dean inquired, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh." Castiel paused. "Is there hot chocolate in Hawaii?" he asked.

Sam laughed and reached for a sandwich; Dean just rolled his eyes.

"You're missing the point, Cas. You don't want hot chocolate in Hawaii. You want... flowered leis and pina coladas out of coconuts."

Castiel blinked. "Okay?"

"Attaboy! Hawaii it is!"

Sam shoved the laptop towards Dean. "How about we hit the obits and see where those lead us first."

Dean huffed. "Fine, but I'm looking at the Hawaiian papers first."

Sam just smiled as he leaned back in his chair, watching Dean peck at the keys on the laptop.

Castiel tilted his head and turned for his hot chocolate again. He hadn't had a pina colada _or_ a coconut, but if he got him out of the snow and this mountain of blankets, he didn't think he had it in him to complain.

... Course, he didn't know how _hot _it was in Hawaii.

* * *

><p><strong>Because - only being on Season 4, but knowing (without knowing the details) that Cas falls - it seems to me that he'd be really sensitive to temperature fluctuations, having been an angel not affected by human things. So, 87 or so Fahrenheit would probably be way hot to our holy tax accountant. Anyway, it's been kind of cold where I am, so I picked cold weather as a prompt and decided on Michigan, where I've heard horror stories from the telly about lake effect snow.<strong>

**Please do not post spoilers in your reviews****.  
>I do not own <em>Supernatural<em>. Thanks for reading!**


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